Thursday, February 25, 2010

Courage: your tongue has leftits natural position in the cheekwhere eddies of the breathare navigable calms. Nowit locks against the glottis oris snapped at by the teeth,in midstream: it must be workto get out what you mean:the rapids of the breathare furious with beliefand the tongue, as bloodand animal of speech,to stop it, block it, or come cleanover the rocks of teethand down the races of the air,tumbled and bruised to death.Relax it into acting, bethe air's straw-hatcanoeist with a mandolinyodeling over the falls.This is the sound adviceof experts and a true despair:it is the toll to pass the locksdown to the old mill streamwhere lies of love are fair.